Unexpected Turns
by Kelonzi
Summary: Third installment of "The Gunn Years". Life goes from bad to worse and Gunn is arrested... and that's just the beginning. Cliffhanger! What happens here is resolved in Story #4 (coming soon)
1. Circle

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***Author's Note (again... *sigh* I should just write something and deal with it, yes? *G*)***  
This piece is disjointed and fastpaced on purpose. Bare with me as there's a lot of exposition that takes place. If things don't make sense, they will in the fourth of my "Gunn Years" stories. And... if this whole fic makes complete sense to you... ignore me and my dumb little disclaimer. I was just worried that everything's a little confusing right now.  
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Unexpected Turns  
Part 3 of "The Gunn Years"  
  
  
So, what's new? Everythin' and nothin'. Life's good when yer on top of the heap. (Heh. Actually, s'kinda ironic usin' the word "life", ain't it?) Most vamps would give their eye teeth ta be part of the Kreis... an' I intend ta keep it that way. One can't let just anyone into is inner circle, now can he? The Kreis is made up of the best....  
  
"Ty! Tell 'em it's my turn ta eat the kids next kill! They always hog all the young an' tender meat."  
  
"Do not! Everyone gets their own slab of veal an' you just have to wait yer turn!"  
  
... theoretic'ly, the best, that is. We're weedin' out the weak ones, but the moron factor is a little higher than I anticipated.  
  
Ty dropped the fountain pen onto his spiral bound notebook diary and raised himself up to full height. Somehow, his gang of vampires sounded more menacing on paper. The Kreis, as that idiot Klaus, a German shopkeeper, had named them, was truly no more than a collection of dim-witted, wining babies.   
  
"When can we get somethin' fresh, huh?" A vamp with a jagged scar running across his forehead implored as Ty, their black-haired leader emerged from his side office. "The last thing we chased was Klaus. An' 'e wasn't all that succulent.. mostly lard an' grease once those vultures divided him up." He pointed to five other vampires curled over a corpse in the corner.  
  
Snarling, Ty shook his head. "I have a plan."  
  
"Ooo! What're we gonna get? Huh, Ty? What? What? What?!" A scrawny girl vamp, who had been called Karen in life, begged. "How about a candy striper? They taste REAL good!" Everyone chuckled. Karen had been turned in LA Medical Center when Ty entered her room, masquerading as concerned family. Ty had gone to great lengths to get inside, but, contrary to the girl's delusions, it wasn't because she was anything special. He just wanted to prove that he could do it. Bragging rights and all that. Still, she fancied herself his intended or something like that, and Ty found himself at least three times a day regretting that he ever turned her. No amount of pride was worth this eternal torment.  
  
"Chill, girl." Geoff slapped his hand down on Karen's arm. She had developed an excited shiver which looked a heck of a lot like advanced Tourette's. "We'll eat."  
  
Ty nodded. "'Ow bout a quick snack? Just ta let Gunn know---"  
  
The five stopped and sighed deeply. The looks on their faces all said the same thing: 'again?!'. The Kreis was hungry, but this using every excuse to chase around Charles Gunn and his crew was getting extremely tiring. It didn't take a braniac to realize that Ty had a particular fondness for tormenting the lost children of the back alleys. The vampire would do anything to get under Gunn's skin, which was extremely foolish since there were thousands of other victims out there much more vulnerable than the 17 year old boy. Staying affixed to one target meant two things. First, that a blinding obsession could eventually lead to Ty's demise due to carelessness. Secondly, the longer Gunn remained alive, the weaker it made Ty look. No story of keeping the kid alive for could cover for over five years of missed opportunities. Any outside observer would draw the conclusion that Ty was weak; unable to kill Gunn because the boy was too powerful.  
  
"Not to question you or nothin', but why them? 'Specially why AGAIN?" A vampire in a grungy leather vest that exposed his massive tattooed biceps, asked. "I know this sweet little collection of Kindergartners--"  
  
Ty snarled and lunged, pinning the biker vamp to the wall. "If you didn't want to question me, why are you?! This is my decision and it's none of your damn business. I just feel like havin' a little fun with the boy s'all. Is that clear?"  
  
Karen stopped shaking for the first time that evening. The others, too, stood stock still. Ty had never spoken quite this way before. Or, at least, they couldn't remember a time he had. Since they usually just tuned him out, he might have, but no one would remember.  
  
"Scared?" Ty was seething with rage. "Good. Ya should be." He spat at their feet. "Worthless, good-for-nothin'... There's 'bout to be some changes around here. No more of this sloppy---" He staked biker vamp. "-- disorganized--" He lashed out and broke Karen's arm easily. "-- chaos!" A stake sprang from Ty's sleeve, skewering one of the pudgy vamps that had been gorging on Klaus moments before.  
  
The remaining four vampires stared in disbelief.  
  
"Now we go kill somethin'. That took a lot out of me, an' I get cranky when I'm hungry." Ty hissed and kicked down the door to their abandoned office building.  
  
Arm cradled against her body, Karen could already feel the bones fusing back together. Being a vampire, her healing powers had already kicked into high gear, however it would still take a day or two for the appendage to be of much use to her. Ty had never hurt any member of his inner circle this way. She knew that her injury was intended to serve as a message to the others. He was serious about making some changes. Things were going to be far, far different from now on. Their victims wouldn't know what hit them. "Pity that poor Gunn kid.." Karen chuckled madly, ".. he won't know what hit 'em."


	2. Chauffeured Evil

* * * * * * * * * * * *   
~ ~ SEVERAL MONTHS LATER ~ ~  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
"Watch it, man!" Gunn landed hard on the pavement. He glanced down, arm scraped and bleeding. "Oh you're messed up now, kid. C'mere an' get what's comin' to ya!" Gunn hauled himself to his feet and whistled over to his best friend, "Rondell! Over here!"  
  
A good looking kid, older than Charles by a mere three months, Rondell's eyes flashed acknowledgment. He threw his load over to Gunn before being taken down hard himself. "You got 'em, now, G-man! Finish it off!"  
  
Gunn took one long stride, two, three... and threw down the slam dunk.   
  
"You got lucky that time." Junior wiped his arm across a sweaty brow as Gunn let go of the rim and landed softly on the blacktop. "No one beats my man to man defense and lives to tell the tale."  
  
"Yer jest sore 'cause now you gotta make dinner for everyone." Gunn bounced the basketball from hand to hand, passing it between his legs once or twice for show. Alonna and her friend Bernetta giggled. There were ladies in the stands to impress, after all.  
  
The boys gathered up their things and headed back home-- known to the rest of LA simply as 'the warehouse off of 45th and 3rd'. They had agreed that there was nothing like a little physical activity to wear oneself out and make sure he'd sleep really well that night.  
  
Vampire activity had been pretty ordinary for the past few weeks. Late night hunts would turn up the standard dark alleyway ambushes and convenience store knock-offs. To Gunn's crew's credit, they had probably saved the lives of several dozen people over the last four days alone. Still, many of the attacks bore Ty's calling card markings-- slit throats, bellies cut to ribbons-- or, in one case, an actual note that Gunn had taken and never shown to a soul. The others could only imagine what it said.  
  
Despite all of this, Charles figured it was high time that the gang got a little R&R. True, they were always on the look out for fangy party crashers, but it was a healthy change of pace. One couldn't live in the dark 24 hours, 7 days a week. Well, one could try, but unless one was a vampire, the chances of not going stark raving mad in such a setup were next to none.  
  
"Let's get outta 'ere. S'late." Gunn motioned to the others, then pointed at the setting sun. Soon the vampires would be out and about and they needed to be geared up before that happened.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
Nearby, a sleek, jet-black limousine negotiated its way through the windy back streets.  
  
"I have to say, sir, I've chauffeured Limousines since I was 18 years old, and never once have I had such a distinguished passenger in my care. It's been quite a pleasure, and I do hope that you will---"  
  
"Oh will you just shut your trap for two minutes? It wouldn't kill you."  
  
Chastised, the driver closed his mouth for what was, probably, the first time all evening. The silence didn't last long however, "I'm sorry if I offended you and your friends in any way, sir. It was not my intent to---"  
  
A snarl came from the back seat.  
  
A snarl? The driver was perplexed. He didn't remember permitting his guests to bring a pet along with them. It was a major breach of policy to allow such a thing. Dogs had a tendency to scratch up the naugahyde with their claws... shed all over the rug... and, of course, leave little "presents" all over the place.  
  
"Pull over, you blundering idiot."  
  
"Well, sir, I----"  
  
"Pull the freakin' car over!" One of the man's larger companions bellowed. Not wishing to get into an altercation with this gentleman, the driver did as he was told.  
  
"Get out!" The same man continued to bark orders.  
  
The driver pushed open his door and got out somewhat reluctantly. This was decidedly an irregular procedure. He tensed up a bit as the large gentleman stepped from the passenger side and approached slowly.  
  
"Is there some problem?" The driver had to squint in the dim street lights to see the face of his passenger. He stepped forward to try and get a better view of the man... which was when he was grabbed and dragged off down an alleyway and into the shadows. The "dog" growled as the driver screamed in terror.


	3. Arrested

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
"Ya gotta teach me how ta do that some day, Chuck." Gunn's cousin Lester piped up as the group rounded the corner of 3rd street and onto 45th. Lester had rolled into town a few weeks back, unannounced and unexpected. Usually when one joined up with Gunn's vampire hunters it was a personal vendetta, but Lester had given no explanation. Just that he wanted to stake himself some undead monsters. It was peculiar, but Gunn wasn't about to argue with a man who desired nothing more than a little stake action. Let him kill the vamps and keep his tale of woe to himself. Charles wasn't going to loose sleep over it.  
  
"Do what?" Gunn asked offhandedly.  
  
"That thin' with the ball. Sweet, bro."  
  
"Right. Sure thin', but first I'd s'gest that ya build up some muscle, Cous'." Gunn rolled his eyes, about to say more when he realized that something felt off. It was suddenly very quiet. The group was a little later getting back than he would have liked, but it wasn't like everyone would have already hit the sack. There should have been several members of his crew hanging out on the streets, keeping watch, if nothing else. "What's goin' on?" he asked, lowering his voice.  
  
Rondell tensed. "I dunno, but I sure as hell don't like it. Somethin' bad's goin' down. S'like we're bein' watched."  
  
"Vamps?" Chain guessed.  
  
"Nah. They stopped that stealth stuff a long time ago. After years a'ambush, the ol' game of hide an' seek just doesn't carry the same thrill as it used to for 'em." Gunn replied dryly.  
  
A streetlight flashed on. Everyone jumped and backed away.  
  
"What the--" Bobby whipped out a stake from his pocket.  
  
"Chill." Gunn snapped. "Just the city's automatic timer, man. Nothin' ta get all jumpy about."  
  
Bobby couldn't relax, though. "How can you be so sure?"  
  
Because I could feel 'im if 'e were 'ere. Gunn said to himself. Ty always lets me know that 'e's around. Likes ta leave sick lil' notes for me. At least, there'd be a dead body or a car blazin'....  
  
"How can you be so SURE, Chuck?" Lester echoed Bobby's question when several moments passed without an answer from Gunn.  
  
"I just do."  
  
"How---"  
  
"Keep questionin' me an' that'll be the last question ya ever ask." Gunn snapped, putting down any further inquiries from his friends. "Let's go inside before whatever it is comes out ta shake our hands." Or rip 'em from our bodies... either way...  
  
The boys gathered together in a cluster, moving quickly and quietly to the warehouse's side entrance. Alonna and the other girls were sent inside first, followed soon after by the others. Nearly everyone had made it inside when a slick limousine pulled up to the curb and a man in a well-tailored suit stepped out.  
  
"We got company." Gunn stopped on the threshold to the warehouse, ushering the last man inside.  
  
Chain's eyes blazed as they always did before battle. Ever since he was a little kid he lived for the action, suspense, thrill... whatever it was that could give him a buzz. The Latino youth was so high strung that he seemed to literally need that action to survive. I knew it was vamps. I'll break out the crossbows--"  
  
"Not vamps." Charles held up his hand. "Lawyers."  
  
Alonna appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in the doorway that her older brother still stood in. "So it's worse than Chain thought!" She cracked a nervous smile. "Here we were thinkin' it would just be a normal batch of bloodsuckin' fiends. Lawyers is in a category all by themselves."  
  
"Alonna, go back upstairs and tell the others to keep quiet. Be ready for anythin'. I don't want our visitors knowin' just 'ow many of us there are."  
  
"In case there's somethin' more to this lil' visit? Like a demon stashed in the trunk?"  
  
"In case he's from Social Services, 'Lonna." Gunn shot back. She knew what he meant. If the feds found out just how many homeless kids were living in the old building, it would be instantly condemned and all of Gunn's gang put in group homes, youth centers, or any place designed to "reintegrate children into society". He knew how well homes for orphans worked and wasn't about to make his friends go through what he had at the Plummer Street Shelter. "Move on, little girl." His voice had an almost pleading tone.  
  
Getting the message loud and clear, Gunn's sister took the stairs leading to the upper floor two at a time.  
  
Relieved to be alone at last, he turned to face the enemy. As an older man in his mid sixties stepped from the lap of luxury and into Gunn's world, the boy of 17 began to muse just how many forms evil could take. He was used to the oozing demon variety... the fangy midnight brigades... but he knew that evil could just as well take the form of... an elderly man stepping from a limousine with a large briefcase in his hand.  
  
"Evenin'. Anythin' I can do for ya?"  
  
"Charles Gunn?"  
  
Well, that just about confirmed that this wasn't merely a social visit. Most people who came down here were not of this man's clearly high social stature. And the fact that he seemed to know Gunn didn't help to ease the knot of fear that had started to form in Charles' stomach. How exactly did this man know his name? "Who's askin'?"  
  
"Winston Reynolds Brown." The man extended his hand in greeting. Gunn merely stared at the hand as if it would poison him if he touched it.  
  
"English, ain't ya?"   
  
"Bloody smart, you are. Shouldn't have expected anything less, I suppose."  
  
Gunn shook his head 'no'. The man was trying to be friendly, and Gunn would have none of it. At least, not until he found out exactly what this guy's agenda was. "Wantin' somethin', Brit?"  
  
"Please, call me Winston. No need for insults. We hardly know each other." Charles remained stone silent. The man stepped back a bit and cleared his throat, sensing the hostility in Gunn's actions. "I was told by a friend that I would find you here. Nice to see that you do not disappoint."  
  
"Cut the crap. I asked ya what ya wanted an' all I'm gettin' for my trouble is what sounds a heck of a lot like stallin'.?" Gunn's patience with the man had just run out. "No more of this beatin' around the bush stuff. I think you'll find that I got a real short attention span."  
  
"Comes from being raised on the streets, I'd wager." The man chuckled and bent down. The motion set Gunn even more on edge than he was before, raising his fists in a defensive position. "No need for that, my boy." Winston unlatched his briefcase and withdrew a manila folder of documents. "I have here several documents."  
  
Social Services. It had to be. Damn, he'd fought so hard to avoid this situation. Time for Plan B, then.  
  
"You have a rather sizable amount of children within your ranks, yes Charles?"  
  
"Got a lot of guys, yeah. But they ain't children." Gunn set his jaw firmly. At the very least, he could stall for time in hopes that the others would take the hint when he didn't return that something was wrong. The longer he kept Mr. Winston busy, the better chances his friends had of escaping.  
  
Winston met Gunn's hard gaze this time. He wasn't about to let himself be intimidated. "No, I suppose they aren't. Seen much fighting in your time, Mr. Gunn?" Silence. "I'll take that as a yes. So I'd also assume you've been up to your fair share of mischief."  
  
Where was the pansy going with this?  
  
"Including a certain incident that occurred down under the Starford Railroad Overpass at around 3:00 yesterday morning?"  
  
Gunn began to shake his head in disagreement, but Winston continued on as if he had never asked the question, but merely made a statement of intent. "Random acts of violence give you a thrill, kid? Such as setting dumpsters full of garbage on fire... spreading gasoline all over the wooden rails... and killing a dozen people?" Winston accused.  
  
Gunn was dumbstruck. His boys had been out around that time, yes, but nowhere near the Starford lines. "No sir. My boys were across town at 3am. Nowhere near this firey inferno yer talkin' 'bout."  
  
"Can you tell me what you were engaged in at that time then, sir?" Winston's accusatory tone didn't falter a bit, but grew more confident with each unanswered question. "And mightn't you be able to collaborate your story with an alibi?"  
  
What were we doin'? Well, hell, just savin' the world from a country club of vamps. Well, that is, they were country club members when they was alive. Gunn thought. But he couldn't just tell that story and expect anyone to believe him.  
  
"I'm afraid you'll have to come with me, sir."  
  
"Why? None of my boys ave done anythin'." Gunn glared.  
  
"Just come along and save us all a lot of aggravation."  
  
"Show some proof that my men was down there, first. Then I'll be more'n happy ta come with ya."  
  
A motion from inside the warehouse distracted Gunn momentarilly. What's goin' on in there? In the split-second that his back was turned, Winston approached Gunn and slapped a pair of handcuffs down on the boy's wrists.  
  
Gunn struggled, but found his bound arms a severe hindrance. Wonderful time to be without a weapon. He mentally chastised himself for being sloppy. In LA, a guy never wanted to be caught outside without some means of protection. If it wasn't vamps, it was crooked cops, or crooked lawyers. Or crooked cops masquerading as crooked lawyers.  
  
The owner of the scream-- Alonna-- came barreling out the door a moment later, with Rondell, Junior, and George hot on her heels. Gunn could only imagine what was running through his little sister's mind. She must have seen what was happening from one of the upstairs windows. "You can't take 'im! 'E ain't done nothin' wrong!"  
  
Rondell's eyes were wide. Evidently, he had tried to stop her since he still held her blanket in his hands. They must have attempted keeping her away from the windows. She didn't need to see what was going on. Despite their best efforts it obviously hadn't worked.  
  
"Get everyone out!" Gunn barked as Winston dragged him toward the limousine. The man was surprisingly strong for an elderly man. Unless he wasn't a man at all, Gunn mused. Before he could think further on this, however, two more goons emerged from the limousine to aid their boss in dragging the struggling youth into the car.  
  
The last Alonna saw of her brother was his head being jammed through the car door. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but was held tight by Chain who had his hand over her mouth.  
  
"Damn, girl. You wanna get us ALL hauled off?"  
  
Silent tears coursed down Alonna's cheeks in rivulets. We'll get ya out, Gunn. They can't prove a thin'...  
  
The police took off. Evidently, it was just Gunn that they were interested in. The others' emotions went from relief to immediate panic. Those people had Gunn, no one knew exactly why, and any one of them could be next.   



	4. Trapped in a Cage of Life

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
  
"Mr. Womack will see you now." The slim, 5'9" blonde secretary replied to the gruff man standing before her. The man reflected for a moment on just how annoying her voice was and how much satisfaction it would give him to snap her neck and silence that voice. However, he thought better of it. A major business deal with the Boss Vamp and he would be on easy street for the rest of his eternal existence. It probably wouldn't be a good first impression to kill the guy's secretary. Besides which, he could smell her humanity. She probably had very little idea of exactly what she was working for. Or, if she did, she had blocked it from her mind.   
  
Mortals had an uncanny knack for doing that, he mused as he headed down a long hallway to an oak set of double doors. Supernatural things that were beyond the realm of simply being explained away had a habit of being blocked from the mortal mind. Selective memory, it was called... or was that stupid ignorance? Their loss. Some vampires can be perfectly amicable individuals. Take Mr. Womack for instance. Nice gentleman. Downright professional at what he does. His only crime is lacking a pulse. Well, that and a whomping load of money laundering, but who doesn't engage in a little of that on occasion these days?  
  
He took the brass door knocker in his fist and knocked confidently. He had nothing to worry about. This was just a simple business deal, and it wasn't like he was in Womack's debt or anything. If I were in debt to this guy, the vampire mused, I wouldn't be caught within a three state radius of this place...  
  
"Come in, Jackson." A smooth, slightly street-accented voice emanated from beyond the door.  
  
Now how did he know... Eh, his secretary had probably called ahead... but still... Jackson Knox pushed the thought from his mind and crossed the threshold with a flourish. It was nice to enter a halfway decent dwelling without needing to force an invitation or kill its owner.  
  
Womack had his back to the door as Jackson entered through it. "Please. Sit yerself down. An' please 'elp yerself ta the mini bar. Most I've done with it lately was jest alphabetizin' it anyways."  
  
"Is something wrong?" Jackson wondered what would keep a vampire so famous for his booze consumption from taking a single swallow.   
  
The big-business vampire narrowed his eyes as if considering something. He's deciding just how much information he can trust me with. Jackson realized, smiling inwardly. So he's clever as well as enterprising. Looks like this is a match made in heaven.  
  
"Just a minor deal I'm workin' out. 'Til I know it's gone through, I need ta be on top of my game."  
  
"I'll drink to that." Jackson had eased himself over to the mini bar and taken out a bottle of scotch. Pouring himself a glass, he raised it in salutation. Downing the contents in one gulp, he smacked his lips in satisfaction. "Sure you don't want any? Real tasty."  
  
"Never drink on a job." Womack replied evenly. "Fogs up yer mind."  
  
Jackson shrugged. "To each his own."  
  
"As I was sayin'---" Womack began, still facing the heavy curtains hung over the windows of his stylish office. At that moment, the intercom buzzed. Irritated at the interruption, he spun in his chair, facing Jackson for the first time since the vampire entered the office, and clicked on the small box on his desk. "Yes?"  
  
"There's a call for you on line 1, sir."  
  
"What's th'mergency? Didn't ya tell the fool I was in a conference?"  
  
"Yessir, but the gentleman said it was urgent. Something about a firearm."  
  
"A gun?" Womack's eyes lit up.  
  
The secretary made a clucking sound with her tongue. "Yes. That was it. Gun. They've brought it down to the station-- whatever that means."  
  
"Thanks Miz Evans. Ya've been more'n 'elpful. Feel free ta take the rest of the evenin' off. I have a lil' business trip in mind."  
  
The intercom clicked off.  
  
"This your 'deal'?" Jackson cocked his head questioningly.  
  
Womack walked over to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. "Signed, sealed, an' delivered."  
  
"Yer a genius, Ty. I.. hope you don't mind my using your first name. But I figured, since we'll be working together---"  
  
"That works nicely for me. Some of my best friends call me Ty. Best friends... an' other folks."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
Gunn was flat on his back, staring up at the cement ceiling of his cell. So much for a guy's rights. Seemed that they didn't apply when one was a "ruffian street kid". He'd been processed like any other run-of-the-mill criminal. Prints. Mugshot. Nifty orange jumpsuit. Wouldn't mom love ta see me now? He let out a deep sigh and rolled onto his side so he was facing the cold iron bars a few feet in front of him. Briefly closing his eyes, Gunn imagined that he was back in the warehouse with Alonna. It would nearly be time for her to go to bed. Sure, she was 13 now, but tucking her in was something of a ritual for him. Silly, he knew, but by personally seeing that she was in bed at night, Gunn could sleep easier knowing she was alright.   
  
"Hope the guys'll tuck 'er in for me tonight." Gunn muttered.  
  
"Worrying about your sister again?" A voice came from just outside the cell. "Ya don't change a bit, do ya?"  
  
"I've 'ad 'bout enough of the mysterious stranger thing fer the day... jest lemme see yer face... spit on me or whatever an' move on. S'gettin' really old."  
  
There was no answer.  
  
Am I loosin' it? Gunn got up and peered out between the bars. There was no one there. "What's goin' on?"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
"That's it. We get Gunn out now. No more waitin' around." Rondell had been laying plans for the last hour with several of the other boys to spring Gunn from jail. They hadn't done anything wrong, and would prove that one way or another. Stepping out into the street, they took off at full speed for the Juvenile Detention Hall across the city.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
  
Ty had entered the cell block with a smile on his face. Things were coming together nicely. In a few short hours, Gunn and his little ragtag group would be out of the way. This mission wasn't for financial gain-- more settling a personal score. He'd always liked tormenting the boy, and now, thanks to the wonderful folk at Wolfram & Hart, he had the means to destroy his enemies. Not by sword and stake, but by checkbook and legal papers.   
  
As he was close to Charles Gunn's block, Ty's cellphone rang loudly. Damn. So much for the element of surprise. He hissed and removed the small hand unit from the breast pocket of his suit. This had better be important. Raising the phone to his ear, Ty fought the urge to throw it down and stomp upon it. He hated having surprise visits spoiled.  
  
"They're on the street."  
  
"Well, call the police an' get the hell out of there!"  
  
"Just thought you'd like to know...."  
  
Ty didn't reply, but let the dead air hang for a moment. Placing Gunn in prison was the first step. He had several other street kids to lock up next.. the others he'd just let his men turn. When one was a rising figure in the financial world, it never hurt to create a few more expendable troops. That's how he'd gotten Jackson on his side, after all---  
  
----------------The young man pounded frantically down the street. "Hell. And I thought the transfer to LA meant I was rising up in the business world... so what am I doing on the first day of my new assignment? Running the whole damn way home being chased by something that goes bump in the night." Junior Assistant to the CEO, Jackson Knox, cornered sharply... too sharply for the slick, wet pavement, and landed flat on his back. End of the road. Whatever was coming was right on top of him now.  
  
"Life sucks, doesn't it?"  
  
"What are you? Some kind of loan shark? My family's illegal dealings have nothing to do with me. I settled my debt a long, long time ago."  
  
The creature kneeled down and kicked Jackson in the kidneys, rendering the man completely immobile. "Shhhh. I know, I know. Mommy an' Daddy was all wrapped up in the Mafia an' ya wanted out. S'alright. I'm 'ere ta make thin's better. No one'll ever hurt ya again after I'm finished with ya. Ya won't fear... ya'll be feared."  
  
Jackson had to admit that he liked the sound of that, despite the pain that the gentleman had inflicted on him. No more cowering until the rain of bullets had passed. A chance to start all over again... "What did you have in mind?"  
  
Two shiny canines gleamed in the moonlight and, before Jackson could utter a sound, were buried deep in his jugular. Life slipped away silently, the black closing in blissfully, a slick liquid flowing into his mouth and down his throat.----------  
  
"Boss?"  
  
Ty was shaken out of the sweet reverie by the voice at the other end of the phone. "Sorry. My mind was wandering."  
  
Jackson chuckled on the other end of the connection. "Perfectly all right. Thinking about those children again? The trouble they're in for?"  
  
"You bet." Ty lied. "You were saying?"  
  
"I was explaining how the Kreis affiliates in Baltimore took out the local Mafia affiliate two nights ago. We just got the report in this afternoon. Not sure what took so long, but rest assured, whoever caused that delay didn't live to make another mistake like it."  
  
"Are you satisfied?"  
  
"Very." Jackson's vampire visage surfaced as he broke into a vicious, cruel laugh of triumph. His past was as dead now as the man Jackson Knox was. The demon that now inhabited his body delighted in avenging the things that troubled the man in life. "Now the least I can do is help you achieve your goals."  
  
Ty hung up with a satisfied click. He stepped into view of Charles Gunn's cell and bent down, tapping on the bars. "Good mornin'. Rise an' shine."  



	5. Up In Smoke

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
Rondell's group followed the general direction they assumed the limousine with Gunn had taken, trying their best to avoid detection. This, of course, meant taking no main roadways, and trying to follow someone's route by taking side streets was a long and time consuming process. Gunn could be locked up in solitary by now with all the time they had wasted trying to be careful. Caution was vital, yes, but the dawn couldn't be that far away.  
  
"Seen anythin'?" He whispered to George.   
  
The boy shook his head in a grave 'no'. "Not a thin' worth mentionin'. I think this is the way they took, but we're so far out of our way that I can't be sure of anythin' anymore. All I see is blackness an'---"  
  
"A dead body!" Alonna screamed and dashed out from a side alley.  
  
George pushed Rondell aside, who looked like he was about ready to strangle Alonna for tagging along, and took the girl by the shoulders. "Shhhh. Calm down, kid. Now where'd ya see it?"  
  
"Over there." She was trembling and pointed with an unsteady hand back down the alley she had shot out of moments before. "S'worse than any vamp attack I've ever seen."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   
  
  
"Thought I 'eard ya, Ty." Gunn rolled over slowly to meet Ty face to face. "'Ow'd they let scum like you in 'ere in the first place? Figured the only way you'd be in 'ere was behind bars." But this wasn't the same Ty he and his boys had met up with so many times on the streets. This Ty had a nice looking suit, shiny new dress shoes, and a long overcoat. He had obviously been doing quite nicely for himself in the months since they had last met up.  
  
"Alright..." Gunn tried not to show his surprise, ".. what's yer story?" Gunn pushed himself up on to his elbows. "Get lucky with a lotto ticket, or ya jest knock off some businessman?"  
  
Ty glowered and gave the boy a wicked smile. "Wouldn't you like ta know?"  
  
"Maybe I would." Charles never once averted his eyes from the vampire's. "However I'm bettin' ya set this whole thin' up."  
  
"Smart, kid. Real smart... mouth, that is. Ya know, I wouldn't talk like that if I was in yer position."  
  
"Wouldn't ya?"  
  
"Well, since I'm the one with the keys, I think you'd better shut yer mouth an' listen ta what I 'ave to say."  
  
Charles got into a sitting position and gave a glare that said 'Alright. Talk. And do it now before I get even more pissed off than I already am.'  
  
"I thought you might like to know that we've made arrangements to place you in a group home. We'll see that you get off on a lesser count and, so long as you report to group therapy twice a day, you may yet become a happy, healthy young man."  
  
"Who's 'we'?" Gunn glared. "And since when did ya care a damn about me, Ty?"  
  
"Since this sweet little bunch of people showed me how nice life can be when you make the rules. No havin' ta change ta please others. They'll do what you tell 'em to."  
  
"An' if I don't go along with yer plan?"  
  
Ty reached for the lock on the door and slid the key in, turning it ever so slowly. "Come with me."  
  
"You come in 'ere an' I'll kill you."  
  
"Now, now, now! Calm yerself. Attackin' me'll only get yer friends killed that much faster." Ty chuckled. "And that sweet little sister of yours." He stepped back. "But if you insist, I'll leave you to brood in your cell block."  
  
Gunn set his jaw and went back to his cot.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
"Damn."  
  
The face of each member in the group was sullen. It was a murder scene of the worst kind, alright. The unlucky victim had been laid out on the ground, limbs splayed to the sides, allowing whatever killed the man to get straight to the soft belly. Damage to the corpse was extreme, however, the murderer had been clever. The marks was covered, all skillfully concealed beneath the victim's raincoat.  
  
Alonna was still ashen, looking as if she were somewhere between fainting and throwing up. She'd seen some bad stuff, but this took the title for most gruesome. Usually, Gunn was able to shield her from the really bad stuff, but he wasn't around right now to do that. "What are we gonna do?"  
  
"You're gonna put your hands up where I can see them." A sharp voice barked instructions to the youths.  
  
Slowly, Rondell, Alonna, George, Junior, and the others turned to face an unmarked police car. It's driver held the gun firmly between his hands, finger dancing on the trigger.  
  
"What's up, officer?" Junior tried to act as nonchalant as possible, but even he was fighting his first instinct of running like the wind. His history with the long arm of the law was, well... long.  
  
"A murder. Three feet behind you. One which you and your friends committed."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
"They should have been back by now." Chain and Bobby sat huddled together against the cold night air. The evening had suddenly changed for the worse. Thick black clouds blotted the sky and an uneasy feeling had spread throughout the warehouse. It was as if they were being watched constantly. Chain had patrolled around the perimeter at least once an hour, but had been unable to find anything that would account for the discomfort.  
  
Bobby shivered a little. "Maybe we should get out like Gunn said."  
  
"Hey, listen! Rondell left me in charge an' so long as them cops don't show back up, we're fine. Plus, where would we go, genius? I can't think of no place near enough that ain't already claimed by someone else's crew." Chain shot back.  
  
"Then, can't we at least go out an' check again?" It was out of character for Bobby to be so wound up, but it wasn't as if his fears were unfounded. First, Gunn had been hauled off for 'questioning' and then at least a quarter of their crew had vanished from a mission that they should have been back from hours before.  
  
"Lay down, man. Yer imaginin' things. Sleepin's yer best option. Things'll look better in da mornin'."  
  
Bobby laughed at that. "Ya sound just like my mother when I was five."  
  
Suddenly an explosion came from outside. Chain lept to his feet and was down the stairs to the first floor in the blink of an eye. Bobby froze. I knew it. I knew somethin' wasn't right. He took in a deep lungfull of air to try and calm himself. No sense in fighting when one's head was less than level. But wait... what was that? He took a sniff of the air. It was a rich, woody smell. Almost like a wood burning stove.   
  
Wait.  
  
Burning wood?  
  
"EVERYONE GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Chain bellowed up the stairwell.   
  
Now Bobby could hear the cracking and popping of a blazing fire. And the wood? The very warehouse they were sleeping in. "GUYS! YOU HEARD 'IM! MOVE!" Bobby grabbed people from their sleeping pads on the floor and shoved them in the direction of the stairs as fast as he could.  
  
Chain's scream could be heard once more above the din. "TAKE THE BACK WAY! FRONT DOOR'S BLOCKED!"   
  
As soon as he was sure that everyone was clear, Bobby, too, leaped down the stairs and took off for the back exit.  
  
Sweaty and sooty, Chain was waiting as the last of the crew filed out the back door.  
  
"What the hell happened?" Bobby let out a deep cough.  
  
"That limo came back. Tossed a barrel of somethin' at the front door. Took off after leavin' a lit match."  
  
Bobby's eyes widened. "Gasoline."  
  
"S'what I was figurin'. Now leave while ya still can!"  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I gotta go back for somethin'."  
  
"Nothin' that's worth gettin' yerself killed over, fool!"  
  
Chain pushed Bobby through the door and turned back to go in. Bobby prepared to turn back and follow the Latin boy when a burning beam crashed through the ceiling. Shaken and suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of heat, Bobby staggered backwards. Any hopes of following his friend were lost in the heavy smoke. 


	6. Crash Down

* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
Gunn was lead by armed guard into the security office of the Juvenile Detention Hall. Not surprisingly, Ty was sitting in a small folding chair, waiting for him. What did catch the boy off guard was the large screen TV waiting in the far corner.  
  
Both of the security men assigned to Gunn stepped back, watching the door tightly. "I didn't think I took that long to get here." Gunn cracked.  
  
Ty turned with a vicious smile on his face. "Sit. Have something to drink." He tossed Gunn a can of soda.   
  
Catching it in midair, Gunn pulled it down to eye level and glared at the aluminum can. "I think I'll pass." With distaste, he set it back on the table. "Whatcha want now? Thought you were gonna let me "brood" for a bit."  
  
"Things came together faster than I thought they would, so we have come upon a change of plans." Ty turned up the volume on the TV. The local morning newscast was coming on.  
  
"News Channel 44... Live at 5am... reports have come in overnight...."  
  
Gunn yawned. What was this? Ty's version of last rights before a person was executed?  
  
"... regarding the fire in the old MacDonnough Shipping Warehouse on 44th street. Workers have gone round the clock to stop the blaze...."  
  
He froze in place. What...?   
  
".. a group of homeless children in the area, rumored to live in this structure are unaccounted for at this hour..."  
  
No. No! This can't be happenin'. Gunn felt a greater hatred than he ever had before. Still, he would not betray his inward feelings with outward expression. Hell. It ain't been more than 12 hours. Everyone was fine when I left!  
  
Gunn turned, hands balled into fists. "Damn you."  
  
Ty stared back. "Your friends are gone. Burnt up, most likely."  
  
The steady "bum-bump" of a heart beat filled Gunn's ears. His own.  
  
"Remember what I always told you.... you'll die alone. No one comin' ta save ya." Ty's face twisted and contorted. Fangs elongated and yellow eyes blazing, he closed in for the kill. "Checkmate."


End file.
